


the only valuable thing that I ever steal is your heart

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a legend within the art thieves’ world – always being able to steal valuable paintings from under the collectors’ noses. It was as if he had someone informing him about the paintings whereabouts and how to get in without being caught.</p><p>Knowing Liebgott, he probably had a lot of people working for him – making sure that his heist was well-thought, well-planned, and well-executed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the only valuable thing that I ever steal is your heart

**Author's Note:**

> An anon over-estimated my writing ability and requested a - Webster as an FBI agent and Liebgott as the art thief that's always a step ahead. Liebgott is in for the long con, taking Web with him.
> 
> My sloppily terrible take on it.

The first time Webster had ever seen Beach in Pourville was in his thick textbook during Modern French Arts course in college. The professor had talked about Impressionism and the Impressionist movement and how it transformed French painting. He remembered how he admired at the usage of pastel colors – how brilliantly Monet painted the vast sky and sea. He tried to recreate it but he couldn’t. He lacked the finesse to create such a simple painting. So he shoved his dream of becoming a renowned painter and studied hard about art histories – yet _Beach in Pourville_ left a deep impression on him for a different reason altogether that followed him in his later life.

 

**Monday**

Agent D. K. Webster sat on one of the desks in the crammed meeting room, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands, wondering if he had wasted four years studying Art Histories only to end up working as art crime investigator with the FBI. Sure, the money was good and the jobs were exciting and he got to travel around to actually look at the real paintings – but having to deal with a neurotic boss like Sobel, that was the major drawback.

“We need to be prepared for this. The Getty will move Monet’s paintings in three days. We need to be alert.” Sobel droned on sluggishly as if he was trying to drill the important points into their heads.

Sobel addressed Webster, “What’s the status on Liebgott?”

Webster blinked, “He’s laying low – I haven’t received any info about him.”

“That’s not good. He’s probably planning something.” Sobel groaned and then with a burst of renewed energy, he clapped his hands and turned to address Malarkey, Dike, and Heffron. “I’m assigning you three to guard the paintings. I want you to know the museum’s perimeters. I want you to secure the place. No one gets in or goes out without your permission. Got that?”

Dike looked put out for having to babysit paintings again, but he knew better than to protest a direct order.

Sobel turned to look at Webster and Speirs with slightly maddening eyes, “Make sure Liebgott doesn’t steal these paintings. Watch him. Stage a stakeout outside of his known hangouts. Arrest him if he sneezes your way. I don’t care. Just make him stay away from Monet. Our department’s reputation is in tarnished already because of this rat.” Sobel ended his monologue in a slightly crazed tone and from the corner of his eyes, Webster saw Speirs smirked.

“We’ll do our best.” Webster nodded to Sobel.

“Dismissed.”

*

Joe Liebgott.

The bane of Los Angeles FBI Art Crime Team. More accurately, the bane of Herbert Sobel’s existence. The only thing that prevented Sobel and the promotion he had been eyeing for the past 3 years was Joe Liebgott and his slick ways of always being one step ahead from the FBI.

He was a legend within the art thieves’ world – always being able to steal valuable paintings from under the collectors’ noses. It was as if he had someone informing him about the paintings whereabouts and how to get in without being caught.

Knowing Liebgott, he probably had a lot of people working for him – making sure that his heist was well-thought, well-planned, and well-executed.

 

**Tuesday**

“I’m telling you, this Liebgott guy has someone working for him inside the bureau.” Malarkey sipped his soda noisily, watching the crowds gathered around _The Magpie_ via the CCTV control room.

“How so?” Heffron flicked blue dirt from under his nails before he continued looking at the school girls gathering in front of _Beach in Pourville_.

“Well, this guy is slick. Too slick if you ask me. You need a lot of luck to be able to outsmart the FBI. But this guy has been outsmarting us for three years now. And he even purposely looked at the camera just so we could see his face like he’s taunting us for not being able to find out about him sooner. I’m telling you, someone in the bureau is covering his ass because there’s no way he would know about that damn Raphael’s painting being moved out from Lord Compton’s house. Only we know about the details of it.” Malarkey finished off with a frustrated growl because he was assigned to oversee the painting being transferred from Lord Compton’s estate to the airport.

Heffron was about to reply when Dike suddenly got up from his seat and mumbled about having to make a phone call. Malarkey looked at Heffron, a soft “What the fuck?” was heard.

“Hey, maybe Dike is the one who’s been helping Liebgott huh?“ Heffron grinned.

 

**Wednesday**

Downtown Los Angeles on a Wednesday night was not a good place to be – it was noisy, filled with people milling around. Webster could go to the beach instead but he didn’t want to be alone in the quietness inside of his head. So he chose to sit on a rail overlooking an exhibition of neon lights art being put up on an otherwise white wall.

Words like “You are more than beautiful”, “Trust yourself”, “FUCK OFF” were being illuminated across the vast wall. He lighted a cigarette, wondering what words he would put up on the wall when he heard a familiar voice next to him.

“Jesus, is this what they called art these days?”

“It’s modern art.” Webster inhaled the smoke deeply then blew it through his nose. “It’s pragmatic.”

“It looks like those cheap hire-a-hooker lights outside of a dingy brothel.”

Webster grinned and shook his head fondly.

“You know this is bullshit, Web. I could have painted better than this.”

“But you didn’t.” Web flicked the cigarette ashes on the road.

“Stealing is easier. _Those_ are arts. Valuable. Timeless. _These_ are craps; they don’t even shine in the spotlights.”

Webster flicked the cigarette’s butt unto the road and looked at the man standing near his knee. “What are you doing here, Joe? Didn’t I tell you to lay low?”

“I missed you.” Joe said softly, resting a warm palm on Webster’s knee, his eyes shining from the neon lights when he looked at Webster.

Webster looked at Joe, how his hair flopped over his forehead and how Joe was looking at him adoration in his eyes.

“I ought to arrest you.” Webster whispered quietly.

“But you didn’t.” Joe moved to stand in between Webster’s splayed legs, he gently ran his fingers on Web’s thighs. “You know where I live. Hell, Web, we fucked on my bed last week. But you didn’t arrest me. Why?”

Joe peered up to look at Webster’s face with hooded eyes. “Why haven’t you arrested me, Agent Webster?”

Webster took Joe’s hand in his and ran his thumb over Joe’s knuckle. “I will miss you when you’re not around.” He confessed quietly.

“You’re so in love with me, Web.” Joe said teasingly.

“Yeah.”

At that, Joe’s expression softened and he leaned forward to kiss Web’s jawline before he softly kissed his way to Web’s lips. Web ran his fingers through Joe’s hair before tugging them. Joe moaned lightly, his fingers digging into Web’s shoulders firmly.

When they pulled apart, Joe’s lips were swollen and his eyes looked bright. “Promise me you won’t steal Beach in Pourville.” Webster whispered to Joe’s face and Joe gasped dramatically. “Why would you think I’m going to steal it?”

“You know why.”

“Refresh my memory.” Joe grinned when he saw Webster fidgeting.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Well you have a boner for this asshole. Come on. Refresh my memory.”

“Because.”

“Yes?”

“Because I told you that one time when were in college that I love the painting. And then you said to me that you will steal it for me.” Webster puffed out his cheeks and Joe smiled wistfully, then he leaned forward again to kiss Web.

“You remember.”

“Promise me, Joe. Sobel is about to bust your ass if you happen to breathe his way.”

When Joe didn’t say anything, Webster gripped his hands tighter around Joe’s wrists and shook him. “Joe, fucking promise me.”

“Oh my god! Fine! I won’t steal that painting. Jesus Christ! You nearly break my bones.”

“Want me to kiss them better?”

“They’re not the bones that I want you to kiss.” Joe leered and Webster groaned out loud.

 

**Thursday**

Nothing happened on Thursday. The museum moved Monet’s paintings one by one and the process took over three hours to finish. Webster was restless in those hours - he kept shaking his legs in the car that Speirs nearly threw him out of it.

When the moving was over, Webster couldn’t help but felt a little disappointed that Joe didn’t show up – but in truth, he felt relief flooding him when Malarkey told them that everything was ready to be transported to the airport.

 

**Saturday**

Webster was pushed up against the wall and he didn’t protest when his head smacked the wall a bit too forcefully. Joe was licking a slow trail from his neck to his jaw; biting and sucking while his clever fingers rubbing the front of Web’s jeans.

He tilted his head to the left, giving access to his neck for Joe to kiss and bite and that was when he spotted it - Monet’s Beach in fucking Pourville hanging above Joe’s bed looking all too authentic to be a rip off.

He pushed Joe forcefully from his person and he shouted, “JOSEPH LIEBGOTT, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?”

Joe groaned loudly that sounded suspiciously like “cockblocker” but he also looked abashed. “Mm, happy early birthday?”

“I can’t believe you! I told you not to steal it!” Webster was gaping at the painting – in awed by it and also feeling mortified – because Jesus Christ, his boyfriend stole a Monet for him.

“Technically, I didn’t steal it. It was Heffron who stole it.” Joe said brazenly as if the very fact that Heffron stole if for him would lessen the crime.

“Heffron as in Babe Heffron?”

“The one and only.”

“But there’s no report of break in at the museum!”

Webster gaped at his boyfriend some more and Joe was not above of shoving his dick inside Web’s mouth but he knew not to do that when Web was angry at him.

“Heffron is a genius. He paints brilliantly. He can forge painting to look like the real deal.” Joe explained and he heard Web saying “oh my God” under his breath. “So I asked him to paint Beach in Pourville and exchanged the real painting with the fake one.”

“But there were cameras.” Webster was looking at the painting again and he looked like he was in love because Joe had been at the receiving end of that look from Webster too many time to recognize it by now.

“He was stationed in the CCTV control room.” Joe walked over to Webster and put his hands on Web’s shoulders. “By the time the museum realizes that they have a fake painting in their collections, it will be like ten years too late.”

“You’re such an impossible bastard.”

“You love me. Right?” Joe’s voice wavered a bit when he asked the question and Web leaned back to rest his back on Joe’s body.

“I do. But God, Joe. This is… I don’t deserve this painting.”

At that, Joe spun Web around to face him. “You deserve it. You deserve everything that is good in life and fuck Web, stomp on your moral a bit for me will ya? You love this painting. Of course I’m going to steal it for you.”

Webster didn’t reply but instead he surged forward to kiss Joe hard and Joe smiled into the kiss.

*

(”You know,” Joe said casually when they were on lounging on the bed. Web hummed sleepily, telling him to continue his train of thought.

“The only valuable thing that I ever steal is your heart.” Joe whispered into Web’s forehead, and he felt Web smiled against his neck before he burrowed his face even further into Joe’s warmth.)

**Author's Note:**

> first posted on [webgottrash](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/141098920382/webster-as-an-fbi-agent-and-liebgott-as-the-art)


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